A list of things I’d like to tell my younger self:
Don’t get too attached to 21 Jump Street. Johnny Depp will get bored and quit, the show will go to hell, but you’ll be invested by that point and will watch anyway, thus wasting every Sunday night for 2 full seasons.
Bangs aren’t for you. Trust me on this.
Don’t refuse to wear your glasses while your braces are on out of vanity. Squinting at everything—and walking into shit like a dumbass—doesn’t make you look pretty, either.
Your parents are right. About what, you ask? Doesn’t matter. They’re right, you’re wrong.
Those girls you think are your best friends? You know, the ones who are nice to your face, but constantly undermine your self-confidence and say nasty things about you behind your back? Yeah, they suck. Stay away from them.
You’re not going to marry Jon Bon Jovi. Sorry, but it’s true.
The stories you write aren’t stupid. Keep writing them. (Except the bad fanfiction…that’s stupid and you should stop writing it)
Stirrup pants are evil.
Don’t be afraid to be smarter than the boys. They won’t stop liking you because of it. (They might stop liking you because you’re squinting like an idiot all the time, though)
Don’t wear the mullet-skirted, shiny green satin prom dress. The pictures will haunt you for years.